Lemon Drops and How Dumbledore Really Died
by Triage the Potterfan
Summary: You all think you know about the history of Albus Dumbledore? Well think again! Meet Annette, a Hogwarts ghost who will tell you all about the truth of how the legendary headmaster met his demise, and what lemon drops has to do with it.


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**Disclaimer:**  
_Dumbledore walked out onto the stage, regal as always, wise beyond all compare, eyes twinkling merrily. In the audience seats, a large number of his students, former and current, were patiently waiting for the show to commence, idly munching on popcorn, sipping soda, and quite contentedly watching the man. Harry however, seemed rather busy trying to set a new world record with Ginny for snogging without breaking apart for some much needed breath, and a few mouthfuls of popcorn. The writer of this fanfiction in the meantime, nodded at Dumbledore to get going whilst a thunderous Snape marched down the aisle between seats, intent on separating Harry and Ginny, disrupting their attempt to break a world record._

_"Well," said Dumbledore in his grandfatherly voice, "The author of this fanfiction would like me to inform you along with any reader crazy enough to endure this tale that ownership of Harry Potter belongs quite entirely to one J.K. Rowling, and the only good books or films worth watching concerning Harry Potter, is one to five. Six and seven should be ignored and considered ghost-written works of drunken beavers with a disposition for unhappiness and despair, and do not get this author started on the travesty that was the last three films. Thank you for listening."_

_"You prat!" shouted Archie, you all remember Archie, right? Read Goblet of Fire if you don't, and he aimed his wand at Snape, who had just been about to break-up the snogfest going on with Harry and Ginny. Snape turned just in time to see the stunner flying for his face, and he fell to the floor unconscious, but not before accidentally succeeding in his intended task as he neatly cut right between the teenaged couple, "I've been wanting to do that for ages! Oh, sorry, young Harry...did I ruin your attempt for the world record?"_

_"Yeahhh, but the good news is I get three attempts, and the timer resets," said Harry indifferently, then looked over at Ginny with those smoldering emerald eyes, "Round two?"_

_"Absolutely!" said Ginny, and they both resumed, to the applause and support of everyone else. Dumbledore grinned and lifted Snape off the ground and left the stage._

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**Lemon Drops and How Dumbledore Really Died**

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Oh hello there. It's been a while since I've seen anyone show up here. Who am I? Well, I'm Annette, a ghost, as you can tell. One of many that lives in Hogwarts. Could I interest you in a tale while you are here, between classes? I do apologize for my forwardness, but it has been rather some time since I last had a chance to talk to people, and you see, I have something quite interesting to tell if you would care to listen. It's about Albus Dumbledore. Oh yes, _the_ Dumbledore himself, the man, the myth, the legend. Now I don't need you rolling your eyes at me and reciting all that nonsense that the updated version of Hogwarts: A History likes to tell you, because the true story of the man's demise has been quite severely embellished I tell you.

Are you more interested now? Have a seat and listen on, for I promise you, the truth is so far from what history tells you, that you will surely start questioning everything else you think you know for a fact.

Our story begins with the matter of the headmaster's infamous lemon drops, you've heard of them? Oh you like them, do you? Well...I may have some bad news for you, but that's all a matter of perspective, I suppose. So, about these lemon drops, did you know that they've actually been around a lot longer than even the muggle variant? Oh yes, we made them first, though _some_ idiot managed to convince the world that it was the muggles who created them first. Anyway, throughout Hogwarts' illustrious existence, a headmaster some five, maybe six hundred years ago began stocking the jar on his desk with a healthy supply of them. You see, he had noted that many students had a taste for the candy, and as a means of appearing approachable and friendly, he thought to calm and build trust, along with a rapport with his students, using these candies.

Unfortunately, through a combination of unfortunate timing, the magic of Hogwarts being all weird and unpredictable, and an odd rumour, lemon drops at the time were found to contain a toxic substance which affected oh, fifty percent of the batches produced at the time? While the headmaster's supply was definitely tested and proven to be free of this toxin, nobody felt inclined to accept the offer of that particular candy despite assurances of its toxin-free nature, along with how tasty it definitely is. The magic of Hogwarts placed an unconventional...curse, you might say, on the candies and the jar. And then there was an unsubstantiated rumour that the candies were laced with a light dosage of _Eluta_, it's a sort of plant that works an awful lot like _Veritaserum_, and we all know what that can do to you, don't we?

Needless to say, the student population spread the rumour far and wide, the rumour became myth, myth became legend, and unfortunately, persisted, long past that headmaster, on to the next, and the next, right down to Albus Dumbledore, who inherited this jar along with all the magically preserved candies. You see, since the time of its purchase until the time of the legendary Harry Potter and his friends, not a single soul had ever dared to touch even one of the candies, no matter how frantically any headmaster would offer, even beg, a student. There was a magical bet placed by the headmasters of old, that grew with interest and capital over the years, that whomsoever got a student to accept even one candy, would, by Dumbledore's time, magically gain one billion galleons, a book of spells written by Merlin himself, and estates in nearly every wizarding nation, as well as a dozen Veela brides.

Needless to say, many a headmaster felt inspired to attempt to entice students who visited them to take a candy, even from the earliest days from when the bet had been placed.

"Good day, young Mr. Riddle," said Dumbledore as he received his most promising student in many years, "could I perhaps interest you in a lemon drop?"

Tom Riddle, whom you may know as He-Who-Missed-A-Shag or Lord Moldywarts, then just a young student, had eyed the near-mythical candies with distaste and promptly refused, before going on to discuss the reason for his visit. He was largely ignorant of the look of disappointment in Dumbledore's face.

If you're wondering how I know so much about what went on in the office of our good Dumbledore, well, I'll have you know that I often hung around the man's office back in the day. He never really noticed. After all, ghosts were a dime a dozen around here, and we never did any harm, why would he care? Besides, I made myself invisible. You have no idea how much you can learn just from hanging around in there. Why there was this one time that Severus Snape...oh, sorry, getting ahead of myself. So we were talking about lemon drops and the tale behind it, right? Right, of course. Now do you know about Hagrid? He was a half-giant, you know? Not the brightest fellow around sometimes, but a very very nice lad. Now many would think surely Hagrid would break the "curse" of the lemon drops, surely. After all, if he wasn't the brightest one around, maybe he'd take a chance or damn the consequences.

Unfortunately, girl named Myrtle had recently heard about the rumour of the lemon drops, and had just shared it with the young Mr. Hagrid, and to begin with, quite frankly, Hagrid didn't have mind for much else except his peculiar pets. But when he did visit Dumbledore by chance one fine day, it went along the typical lines of, "Oh, hello, young Hagrid, how's your day been? Would you like a lemon drop?"

Hagrid took one look at the candies, and his hand was actually reaching out for it, and Dumbledore's eyes widened substantially. Was he going to win the best after all these centuries? You can imagine, even a kind man like Dumbledore could appreciate the prizes that awaited him if the bet was won. Unfortunately, it was then that Hagrid remembered what Myrtle told him, and he politely declined, "Migh' 'ave 'ad a bit too many sweets already." he offered lamely, "Oh, professor, I though' I'd tell yeh abou'..."

He droned on, but Dumbledore's hopes crashed so hard, he didn't quite hear the student. And on went the search for the student who would help him win that wonderful bet. It wasn't for years before he had his hopes raised once more, when one James Potter came along. The boy was a student of much promise, but he certainly found himself in the headmaster's office an extraordinary amount of times. "Ah, hello, Mr. Potter. Would you like a lemon drop? It's rather enjoyable."

James Potter fancied himself quite a clever fellow, and he certainly heard more than enough about the rumour behind the candy, and the idea of eating a five hundred year old candy seemed quite off-putting. Perhaps if he could sneak some to Snape? Well, Dumbledore didn't really care, except, the bet had the unique stipulations that the candy _had_ to be consumed, and willingly. Tricking one into eating it unfortunately, didn't count. It was disappointing enough that our good Dumbledore began to question the truth about the bet being real at all. Then on the few occasions he'd been visited by Lily Evans, the young woman always politely declined the offers, but often brought her own delicacies for the headmaster, which the man enjoyed as a small consolation and comfort.

And then Tom Riddle began his rise to power, and you know all that pish-tosh and how it went, no need for me to tell you all about it again. We were after all, quite focused on the truth about these lemon drops...and how Dumbledore really died.

Now how well do you know about James Potter's son? Ahhh, heard of Harry Potter have you? Well, you've never actually met him in person, but I have. Oh, James visited the headmaster often enough, but Harry set records and broke them as fast with the amount of times that he met with Dumbledore, and it was he that noticed how often Dumbledore would offer those accursed candies. It made him question it. Once, he had turned to leave, and forgot something so he came right back in, and it had just been five minutes since the last offer for a lemon drop. "Is there any reason you try so hard to get people to take one?" he finally asked, slightly exasperated, as you can imagine.

"Oh, not particularly," said Dumbledore, looking all innocence personified, "I just think a little sugar in the system would do wonders for you."

That was another thing in the myth about the bet, that one was not allowed to inform anybody about it, or the bet would not be attainable. Our good Dumbledore was resigned at this point to never winning the bet, for as many times as he would visit, Harry would never accept.

And that was when the unthinkable happened. You know of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? Best friends of the good Harry. Well, as it so happened, one fine day on their sixth year, I believe it was. Dumbledore had decided to try something, and took a tad too much _Felix Felicis_. Ah, now pay close attention, my friend, because this is where it got interesting, and where everything went both so right, so very wrong at once. It was evening, and our headmaster knew that Harry, Ron and Hermione were on their way to see the beloved headmaster. Now it should be noted beforehand that Hermione Granger, a Muggle-Born, knew nothing about the legend of the candies, because with her reputation of being a know-it-all, it was assumed that she was fully aware of the jar and its contents and the rumours around it, and despite Harry's one-time comment on it and Dumbledore's frequent offers, she never made any connection about it to anything relevant beyond Dumbledore having a sweet tooth.

One would also assume, with Hermione being the daughter of two prominent dentists, that she would be the last person on earth to accept a sugary substance. Dumbledore certainly thought so. It was in Ron whom he expected his fortunes to finally change. After all, the boy ate almost anything and everything. He had once even taken an acid pop on a dare by his older twin brothers, Fred and George, at the cost of putting a hole in his tongue. If anyone was going to help the headmaster win, it would be him.

"Ah, good evening, all of you," said Dumbledore in his usual grandfatherly tone, "could I interest any of you in a lemon drop? Or two, perhaps? It's really quite tasty."

Ron looked briefly tempted, but he, unlike Harry or Hermione, knew about the tales behind the jar, and promptly refused with a polite, "No, thank you, headmaster."

Dumbledore's hopes was understandably shattered. If even with a double dosage of _Felix Felicis_ he could not get someone like Ronald Weasley to accept and eat one candy, he was _never_ going to win that bet. He had just decided to give up hope for good, and leave it to the fortunes of the next headmaster to come, when Hermione, who as it turned out had missed breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner, eyed the candies, and in a fit of rebellion against her parents' teachings and influence, said, "I'll have one, thank you."

She reached out to grab not one, but two candies and popped them into her mouth, enraptured by the flavours and the joy of finally getting something into her system when she realized just how hungry she was.

Immediately, a rush of things occurred. Dumbledore heard a loud ringing and powerful sensations he couldn't fathom overcame him as the bet's stipulations were all met, and the bet finally had a winner. The man, now a century and a half in age, so shocked to his core, rose unsteadily to his feet, and ran out of the office, and all the way up to the Astronomy tower, surprising everyone with the speed he was capable of, including a passing Snape. He stared out across the landscape, and could see a streak of golden light over where Gringotts had to be in Diagon Alley, as it began to rain galleons directly into the headmaster's personal account. "Impossible!" shouted Dumbledore and he was so seized up over the realization and sensation of finally winning, proving that the bet was real after all, and that he now had a dozen Veela waiting for him, not to mention the missing book of spells written by Merlin...I mean, the spells he could learn!

Unfortunately for him, this proved too much for his heart to take, and the man had a literal fit, and would you believe it, he was standing right at the edge, where he promptly fell to his death. Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived just in time to see the man's demise, and Hermione shrieked. It was the last time she would ever eat a lemon drop.

Snape soon arrived, and he figured out everything, as he was wont to do. He then hatched a plan worthy of the Marauders. It really would be downright embarrassing for the legend of Albus Dumbledore to go in the form of lemon drops being the cause of his death. So he obliviated the three students who witnessed the headmaster's fall. To make the man seem more noble, Snape elaborately planted false memories. So it was now believed that Harry alone had been there, but he also thought that they had just gone on some wild adventure and Dumbledore had died to death eaters and a treacherous Snape (well it was what the old codger wanted, wasn't it?)

The rest, as they say, was history. And that, my friend, was the real tale of how Albus Dumbledore died, now, would you like a lemon drop? They're really sublime. The jar is right here with me.

**_FINITE INCANTATEM_**


End file.
